


Canonisation

by The_Bentley



Series: Five Hundred Word Challenges [15]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comfort, Drinking, Escape, F/F, Friendship/Love, Humor, Implied Relationships, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Middle Ages, Pre-Canon, Wine, Witch Hunts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: Possessing snake eyes in a superstitious time when dark lenses are too tiny to completely hide them is going to cause problems. Crowley finds herself being burned at the stake. Again. Only this time, she's in for a surprise.(No demons were harmed in the writing of this fic. They're fireproof.)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Five Hundred Word Challenges [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885723
Comments: 18
Kudos: 52
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #12 “Saints"





	Canonisation

**Author's Note:**

> Publishing date changed to coincide with author reveal.

Crowley found herself tied to a stake pondering her next actions, yet this wasn’t her first barbecue. Usually, she let out a few bloody screams before miracling a pile of ash to take her place while she walked unnoticed from the fire then disappeared to different parts where she would irritatingly face the same crap. She glared out at the crowd from the flames that would not harm her, deciding enough was enough. Wings unfurled, she prepared her escape. Vanishing the chain around her wrists, she belatedly noticed the precarious tilt of the wood she stood on, tumbling forward through ash and flame to land on the cobblestones into the one patch of sunlight in town on this cloudy day. She looked up, shocked, into the equally shocked faces of the surrounding crowd.

_Fuck!_

The crowd before her sank to one knee, those who could not see wondering what was happening. Crowley blinked in confusion.

“God above! Forgive us for attempting to burn an angel!”

She turned her head, getting a good look at her wings, which were a streaked mess of light-coloured ash and their natural black shade. She could see how she would be mistaken for an angel with singed wings from a distance to a superstitious crowd, thanks to the sunlight. Panicked, she leapt into the sky before they figured out differently and broke out the holy water.

Fleeing unseen to her house, she made herself unnoticed by the humans while she tried to calm down. All right. All right. The town thought she was an angel now. This was bad. Hell would be up her arse for impersonating one of those holy wankers if they found out, even if it was unintentional. The best thing to do was to get as far away from here as possible then feign ignorance if anything was mentioned.

Aziraphale. She needed to find Aziraphale. The angel equalled someone to talk to. Friendship.

It took several days’ travel, but Crowley sought out Aziraphale, wanting the company of her one friend after that harrowing experience. She was elsewhere on assignment and surprised to find Crowley at her door appearing traumatised. Pausing to give Crowley a comforting hug and kiss, she invited her inside.

Leading her into the kitchen, Aziraphale set out some goblets and a jug of wine. Together they sat down to while away the hours in their usual methods. They had drunk through the jug, yet Crowley had not broached the subject of almost being burnt as a witch because of those eyes again. (Tiny tinted lenses only hid so much.) There was a slight pause in the conversation before Aziraphale changed the subject after fetching another jug.

“I should congratulate you,” she said.

“What do you mean?” asked a confused Crowley.

“Rumour has it the church wants to make you their patron saint in hopes it’ll placate you for that unfortunate attempt to execute you. You would be the first demon to achieve sainthood.”

Crowley about aspirated her wine.

  
  



End file.
